Memoirs of A Saint
by Flamist.Rika
Summary: When he woke up, the only think he found was a corpse of the woman who cared for him. Now, Vermundr is attempting to resurrect her through information on alchemy from the man she last corresponded with. But will his efforts be in vain?
1. Chapter 1

Memoirs of the Saint

Chapter 0- Prologue

"I dare you that you can't go into the Blue Witch's Well!" The little blonde haired boy said to his ginger-headed friend, who pushed up their glasses.

"M-My mom said that I'm not allowed to go into the Witch's Bayou, Christian." The ginger said nervously, and his friend smirked mischievously,

"Shut up, Drake, we're going! I heard that when she died, she buried her most treasured possession in the well." Christian pulled out a stick of dynamite, "I found this in the basement- I think it'll help."

In the darkest regions of Romania, you will find the trees are withered and the sun seldom shines. The fog strolls leisurely on the water, making it hard to see in front of you. Deeper in, you will find the Witch's Bayou. It is said- that only one witch had ever lived in the Bayou, but little was know, other than myths and rumors. Some say she was the meanest, others, the most bloodthirsty of them all.

The land has been condemned, but that didn't keep these two youngsters away from the gloomy broken down 2 story house. With it's black, creaking fences, old and rusty from the beatings of the elements and uncared for. Vines crept up the house, wrapping around it tightly. Even the old well was guarded by thick thorn bushes once upon a time, but the children had cut them down. They peeked down the well into nothingness that expended 50 feet below in the dark depths of it's abyss.

"It's so dark… what if a monster is down there?" Drake asked skittishly, but Christian confidently lit a match,

"Guess we'll find out, huh?" Christian smirked, before lighting the stick of dynamite and throwing it down. They ran off and the earth shook as the TNT exploded. The darkness shot up, soaring into the sky, and twisted into the silhouette of a demon, roaring at the children with a bawl of unknown hatred. They screamed and ran off, never to return. But what had been done, could never be undone.

At the bottom of the well, was a circular door with an arcane lock of magic on it, but time had taken its toll on this too, and had broken the lock, awaking the creature inside. The dynamite had stirred the individual with a jolt, and in the dark a pair of glittering eyes opened. Broken pieced of the lock fell into the chamber the beast slept in, letting in light, and it got up and moved forward cautiously. Carefully, curiously, it slowly made the hole bigger, taking down the entire door at it's own pace, before growling and climbing up the well into a world of fresh air from the chamber of musty one it came from.

"Mother?" It grumbled, looking around the long forgotten and uncared for land. "Mom?" It called again in a gruff voice with a touch of adolescence. The creature exited the well, walking around, leaving reptilian foot-fells in the ground, moistened to dampness from the fog. "Mama? You out there?" It crouched playfully, wagging it's lower half, "Are we playing hide-and-go seek? I'll find you Mama! Or-Or are we playing fetch?" There was only the eerie whispers and howls of the Bayou that it'd grown up with, that answered his calls. "Mama?" It went to the house, looking all around- until it spotted a small head stone. Weather had eroded the name on the head stone, and he dug up the grave- only finding a small dog.

It transformed, becoming smaller to walk into the house, "Mom?" It called, going through the entire house. It found it's 'Mother'- in a bed on the upper floor. In the room it's mother had once slept in and shared with him. She lay asleep, on the bed, skin white as snow. "Mom!" It said excitedly, it's voice young and energetic in this form, "Mom, you scared me for a second…" They said, touching her wrist. She was ice cold. There was so pulse to her wrist, nor a beat to her heart. Everything in the house had collected thick blankets of dust, but other than that, nothing had really changed aside form large cobwebs.

Her bed was made and she laid on her back, eyes closed, hair tied back, untouched by time. On the night stand, was some type of parchment it'd never seen before. They moved over to the parchment and picked it up. The ink had faded away, aside from one word- 'Voldemort'. They looked around, confused, for the envelope, finding it in the night stand drawer, two addresses adorning the front. The address of their home, and some strange one, in a place called 'London, England'. They stared numbly at the woman, as she lay sleeping peacefully, never to wake up.

They crumpled the letter in their fist with sharp, black, untrimmed nails. Whipping around, they went to a book shelf in the room, opening a drawer, and removing the false bottom in the door. They'd grown up and lived in this house and knew all of it's secrets and all of the woman's secrets and life- the one they once shared happily and carefree with her. It pulled out a thick, black book, bound by leather and some type of course fur. Werewolf fur. Opening it, They turned to the woman and flipped to an open page, a letter falling out of the pages. They reached down and picked it up, finding it was addressed to them.

'_Vermundr,_

_This is my will. Everything in my possession, is now yours to do with as you will. You were, and still are, my most treasured friend, companion, and son. Though I am not your birth mother, and this you know, I raised you as best as I could. I have no one else to leave my things to, with the black plague taking my husband and many children from me when I was young. The Book of Disease is something not to take lightly, so be wise when you use it. I hope that one day, you will go out and find yourself a mate, have children, grow old, and see the world for all of it's good sides, and not it's bad sides. I loved you with all I had, Vermundr. As I write this, I tremble, knowing one day I will leave you alone, but I hope I have given you enough guidance so you may go out on your own. Live freely and don't look back. Don't regret anything. I will watch over you._

_Sincerely,_

_Your mother.'_

They swallowed the knot in their throat, and continued on. When finished, they walked away from the house, as it burned to the ground. All they needed, in a bag, slung over their shoulder. The stones of the well held a new purpose- to mark the grave of a loved one, and hold the head stone he'd made himself. It wasn't the best, but he knew that no one else had remembered her, and no one else would give her a headstone if their life depended on it.

'_Antoinette Francis De'Louise. _

_In memory of a mother-figure.'_

_~O~ London, England ~O~_

"Thanks, Stranger." The coachman smiled, as his passenger gave him three gold pounds, three times the price of the ride. "Say- where you heading off too anyways?" They asked curiously, as the cloaked figure pulled a beautifully made and polished casket, from the back of the carriage.

"I don't know…exactly." The stranger answered, tipping their hat slightly to the coachman, before they left, pulling out the white envelope that contrasted against their clothing. They looked along the signs of the streets, double-checking their position, before walking along the alleys, looking for the house number. "2406, 2407, 2408," They muttered to themselves, blinking, "2409. This is the place."

They took in a deep, shaky breath, before reaching forward, and pressing the door bell, a buzz in their ears. Voices and mutters could be heard, before the door was opened to a short man. He was balding, his hair held no color, and was a little pale, but his eyes were grey and skittish. "What do you want?" He demanded, and The stranger looked at the letter,

"The address on this envelope refers to this residence, does it not?" He asked, offering the envelope to the man, who snatched it away, looking at it, before looking at him cautiously.

"The post mark date is faded, but this is where it was sent from. Where it was sent too, I'm not familiar. Did you forge this?" The man asked suspiciously, and the stranger took their envelope back,

"Absolutely not! My mother raised me well." The stranger said with surprise, another man coming to the door. His hair went to his mid-neck, and was black- greasy too- but he had interesting eyes and wore a long black cloak. This newcomer was taller than the first man, but shorter than the stranger. Though, everyone seemed shorter than the stranger.

"May I see the envelope?"

"If you are to curse my mother's name, then only I shall look upon it." The stranger spat uneasily, not wanting his mother to be ashamed any more than she had just been.

"Then for reassurance that I am not so haughty as my colleague, allow me to bade you entrance into my home." They said elegantly, and the two stepped aside, the stranger cautiously entering, and giving the envelope to the man, "I don't recall this address either. Maybe another resident of this house, perhaps?" They asked, "This is my colleague, Peter, and I am Severus." The Stranger took their had off and put it to their chest, bowing forward slightly, as they also bowed their head,

"I am…Francis De'Louis." They said, "May I trouble you to ask for a seat and maybe some water?" Severus pushed Peter towards another room, smiling toothily,

"No trouble at all." Severus replied politely, as Francis sat down in a chair after taking off a large strap around their chest and setting down the black casket across their lap, as if it merely weighed a pound. Pete returned with the glass of water that Francis drank drained quickly, handing it back.

"Thank you. I don't believe I'm on good relationship terms with you, so, may I call you by your last name?" Francis asked, and Peter nodded, "Pettigrew." "Well, thank you for the glass of water, Mr. Pettigrew." Peter grinned, nodding, as Severus returned, "And your last name?" "Snape." "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Snape."

"May I ask you a few questions?" Snape asked, and Francis nodded slightly, "Was there a letter- that went along with this envelope? And where did you find the envelope?"

"The envelope, I discovered in my mother's room. I'm not sure if they are a pair, but, I did happen across a letter." Francis said, taking the letter out, "I was hoping, maybe, I could see some assistance." He added, handing the letter to Snape, who waved his hand over it. Words slowly appeared on the page, Pettigrew and Snape staring at the parchment in disbelief and shock, "Is there some type of scandal afoot?" Pettigrew ran off down the hall and into another room, Snape looking at Francis.

"It would appear that the envelope and the letter are a pair, however…our Master's name is at the bottom of this letter." Snape said bluntly, and Francis grinned,

"Then you know of the man who wrote this letter? May I meet-" The letter was taken from Snape's hands by a deathly pale man, wrapped in a cape, who had no nose, no hair anywhere on his body- just sharp eyes. Francis looked at the man, getting the feeling this was their 'master', as the room had gotten deathly silent.

"Ah…Severus, it seems you found a letter of mine." The man said, his voice was low and his words were drawn out slightly- it was painful for Francis to listen. "The envelope?" Severus willingly gave the envelope to his master, who looked at the address, "Who is our guest, Severus?" They asked,

"He says his name is Francis De'Louise." Peter interjected, and Francis looked at the Master, who chuckled,

"That's not his name though, is it?" The master asked Francis, who stiffened. "The name I chose is 'Voldemort', and the name you chose is 'Francis De'Louise'. I want to know the name you were given by your mother." They said, sickeningly sweet, but after, an old memory appeared in Francis's head. A memory of his mother, sitting in a rocking chair, looking over, before smiling at him, saying his name.

"Vermundr." Francis said, "My mother named me 'Vermundr'." He admitted, "Francis De'Lousie, was my mother's middle name and last name…" He stroked the coffin's polished black surface. "I…want her back. She is the only mother I've had, and I don't know what to do. I woke up and she was just-" He gripped the coffin and slammed it down, right side up, in front of him, the lid opening, "She was just like- some type of abused angel! Sleeping peacefully after years of mistreatment!" Snape and Pettigrew jolted, his mother in the coffin, arms crossed over her chest, Voldemort peeking at the perfectly kept corpse. "I want to study alchemy- golem making, to be precise- so that I can remake her into the ultimate Angel! I, unfortunately, have no idea where to start."

"Maybe something about your mother would help you." Peter offered, "Maybe Snape and I can help. Um- I-I only met her once or twice." Peter offered, and Vermundr closed the coffin shut, hisses of air exiting from the seams as it was shut. Voldemort looked at Peter, "Uh- what's her name again?" Snape growled and hit Peter,

"Antoinette wasn't really introduced to us face to face- this would be the first meeting. She always wore a black veil, despite her dress color, even if it didn't match." Snape said, Vermundr blinking, "You may have seen her face every day, but we only ever heard her voice."

"I made her wear the veil around you fools." Voldemort told them, and Peter looked down, Snape only gave a stoic expression. " Out of these two, I think I can help you the most. She wasn't another one of my flings." Vermundr looked up at the ceiling, thinking, imagining, of his mother and this man, spending time together- and he fainted.

When he woke up, he apologized for fainting, "Is it so hard to imagine me and a woman spending time together?" Voldemort asked them all, and Vermundr clutched the coffin, spacing out. "I was very handsome." He looked at Vermundr,

"S…My Mother was not my birth mother, but she raised me from my first breath until her last! I never knew much of her own past other than a few photo books." Vermundr said, to no one in particular, "She was the one who named me. 'Vermundr'. The old Norse worse for 'Protector of Man'. Even things that separated us, she taught to me- and she- and she-" He foamed at the mouth, twitching, the coffin across his lap, "M-My image of her is ruined!"

"Who was your birthmother?" Voldemort asked curiously, Snape raising an eyebrow,

"Antoinette was there when I awoke- I took to her as my mother, but later on, she told me I was not from her womb, and that she held no idea of who my mother was. She knew my father though- he tried to attack her, once." Vermundr put his hands on the coffin, "I was on bed rest until I healed properly from the wounds, but, I killed him. She said my bones were fractured and she didn't want to use magic, because I needed to let my body use it's own regenerative properties to heal."

"I thought as much." Voldemort said, his henchmen looking at him curiously, "You're Vermundr the Dragon."

"The Dragon?" Peter asked, and he shivered, staring at Vermundr, "I-I don't want to die."

"An animagi, Master?" Snape questioned, and Voldemort shook his head.

"He's the real thing. Antoinette had a love for tempting fate. She made Chimeras and helped creatures give their children lives that were far away from their own, but only on request. She wouldn't let me see them, but she told me about them in our letters. I even visited to help her." Voldemort got up and went to a cabinet, opening the side of it- a false side- and pulled out a box. He set it on top of the coffin, "These are the letters I received from her. You may look at them as long as they stay here." Vermundr nodded,

"Thank you." He opened the box as Voldemort sat down, pulling out a letter from the bottom.

'_Dear Riddle,_

_It seems that the Black Plague has hit my household. I await it's cold touch, longing for it after it's taken my second son, Gregory. It has infected my sweet Mirji (mear-zhe), my ray of sun. She cried so strong a few days ago, now, it's a feeble whimper or a sob. She has no strength to get out of bed. I don't understand, Tom. My house is spotless and everyone bathes, there was no way for it to get in. _

_I regret to add this, knowing your distaste for him, but Zukay is also sick. I haven't see a fever so high in my entire life. Even with all my magic, I cannot stop this illness. My wand is useless, and the spells are worthless. At least I can make them comfortable. My foster sons are unharmed as well. I am worried and scared for my family._

_Your friend,_

_Antoinette.'_

"How sad." Vermundr said, "I don't know the people she talks about, but this is very sad."

"Maybe this is one of the 'ignorance is bliss' moments." Snape offered, and Peter tried to reach for the box. Vermundr grabbed the box and bared his teeth at Peter, growling, before putting the letter back, staring at them blankly,

"The papers smell faintly of the spearmint that once grew in the gardens around our home, and the scent of her different perfumes linger on them. Black cherry, moon lily," Vermundr said to no one in particular, before looking at Voldemort, "Did you buy perfumes for her?"

"Once. It was vanilla." He answered honestly, and Vermundr grinned, "If I recall correctly, the first time we met- was when she was changing out of her clothes."

To be Continued…?


	2. Chapter 2

Memoirs of the Saint

Chapter 2

"At that time, I had just entered Hogwarts and she was ahead of me by a year or so." Voldemort said, closing his eyes, and laying in the chair, "She has a scar on the small of her back, it looked like someone had branded her with a cattle iron. Its a cobra with an inverted cross on it's stomach, two heads, and crowns on the heads." He said aloud, and Vermundr blinked,

"How do you know of this?" Vermundr asked, and Voldemort looked at him,

"I spoke of seeing her changing upon our first meeting. The first thing she told me was '

~O~ Flashback~O~

_I had gotten bored and ran off to Fangon Forest after my owl had flown off to god knows where, and I simple followed it. It landed on a branch behind her, as she was pulling on the skirt of the school uniform. Her dark hair went to her shoulders, and when she looked at me over her shoulder. I loved her dark eyelashes the most that perfectly encircled her green- speckled grey eyes. "How long do you think you're going to stand there before I realize you're there, peeping on me?" She demanded icily, as she pulled her shirt and vest on, "Look, Freshie, the show isn't free. So pay up."_

~O~ End ~O~

"So she was a bully?" Peter and Vermundr asked, and Voldemort smirked,

"No- She told me later that she was only hostile because she thought I'd reveal to the Headmaster that between lessons she'd skinny dip in the forest." The Dark Lord responded, "I told her that I wouldn't do such a thing if she entered a friendship with me."

"So you tricked my mother into a partnership with you, took advantage of her, AND had intimate relationships with her?" Vermundr growls angrily, looming over Voldemort, claws out, "I'll kill you first and use your body to help make the alchemy work better-!"

"You've misunderstood- it was a friendship. If you believe Antoinette and I shared a bed, we never did." Vermundr calmed down, sitting back down. "Unfortunately, her husband got to her first. I was a first year, Antoinette was a second, and Zukav (zoo-tay), her husband, was a second year, though he was a year or two older than her."

"…Zukay? Her husband? Oh, the one she lost to the plague? What was he like?"

"A Cemetery. Pale skin, lighter than mine, long, black, straight hair. He was serious, cold, gloomy, and silent. I don't believe he was ever taught to smile in his entire life." Voldemort said, closing his eyes, "I believe he was- Chinese. He had symbols along his arms, his name on his left, and something else on his right. When the semesters started, we all rode in the same cabin, since we were familiar with one another. Zukay came from China, but moved to England, and your mother was from America, New Orleans. She moved too." Voldemort got up, and left Vermundr craving for more information. He huffed, pulling out a black book, bound in werewolf fur, and searched it for something.

"Is that- werewolf fur?" Peter asked, and Vermundr nodded, " Can I see it?" He reached for it and Vermundr growled at him, holding it away from his touch.

"Over my cold, lifeless corpse you will touch something my mouth has touched." Vermundr growled defensively, Voldemort returning with a glass of water,

"Leave him be, Peter." Voldemort said, Peter withdrawing, as Voldemort looked at Vermundr, "Did you mother take you out of the house often?" Vermundr looked down quietly,

"She tried, but I didn't want to leave. When she took me to the closest town so she could make purchases, I was cornered by the village children. I hadn't learned how to properly control my human form, so, I had patches of my scales here and there. I was bullied and beaten for it until my mother came and threw them off me." Vermundr pulled another random letter- a date after the first.

'_Dear Riddle,_

_Yesterday, the Reaper has made me childless, and divorced me from my husband to live as a widow. Zukay's parting words to me broken my heart and spirit, like one would brake a wile mare. I wandered the halls of our home, sobbing, like the weeping willow. Now, I sit in the room that was once mine, and wonder 'what now'? These letters to you will not stop until my own last day, but I am at a loss for what to do next._

_These halls are suffocating and empty. The laughter of my children that once made them warm, gone. Your offer of invitation to stay with you dwells in my mind, but, I'd be obliged if you waited for my reply patiently. I'd send you an invitation to the funeral, but there will not be one. I will bury my children and my husband with my own two hands, where only I know where they lie, as many have sought to harm me to get to them. Even in death, it is my duty to protect my family, and protect them I must._

_Your Friend, _

_Antoinette'_

"Even now, I don't know where her family is buried, but, I sent my condolences and flowers for their graves." Voldemort said solemnly, as Vermundrt shuffled through the letters and found another,

'_Dear Riddle,_

_I thank you for the flowers and the wishes. I sold the house, and my foster children, untouched by the plague, I am taking with me. Maybe one day, I will return to the house, maybe not. I take them, to the bayous- where no one will bother us. Were I can live alone with them, my adopted family._

_I can feel it, Tom. I can feel the chill of Death's most perfect disease, slowly winding up my spinal column. I will be petrified and die in my sleep, as victims of the case before have. I will not age, my flesh will not vanish. When I leave this world, the vassal that housed my soul will remain doll-like. The thought of being a doll, forever, bothers me._

_I want to grow old. I wanted to see my children grow up, have children of their own- the next generations of my line. Now, I cannot. I can only hope that my foster children are able to live happy lived where they can follow their dreams. _

_Mana, the Nagi girl, has become quite beautiful. Her scales shimmer like pearls. I tell her she is the most beautiful among the Nagi. She's found a mate, you know? His name escaped me now, but he is a good boy. The newest member of my family those his name today- he wants to be called Vermundr. 'Protector of Man'. He's very handsome and strong, like dragons should be. _

_He hides behind my skirt a lot, and likes to help with the cooking, unfortunately, he likes to stock pile my jewelry. It's very cute, he growls when I take a piece of it, like his kind should, but he's very behaved. I hope he finds a good mate too._

_Your Friend, _

_Antoinette'_

Vermundr blushed faintly, "This one-" He covered his face, "How embarrassing." He drummed his sharp black nails, longer than Voldemort's and naturally black, on the bridge of his nose. "I feel like I'm forgetting something…" He muttered, thinking, before perking up, "Hn…I remember." Vermundr put the letters back, and closed the box, handing it back to Voldemort, "Excuse me, may I borrow your kitchen?"

"Help yourself." Snape responded, Vermundr bowing his head, and leaving. The three watched as he took off his hat and coat, folding his coat, and putting the hat on it, setting it on the counter. He wore a black muscle shirt, black pants, and a thick belt with various animal skulls dangling from it. A black apron appeared on him, and he searched through the fridge.

"Not much to work with, hn? No meat either. Are you all vegetarians?" Vermundr asked them, and they didn't say anything, as he pulled out what was available, and dropped it on the counter, tying the apron strings behind his back. " 'When you're an unexpected guest in someone's home, make sure you repay them for their hospitality'. Hn- I wonder what she would say to me remembering that…I'll make my specialty." He made a bow, and pulled his long dark hair into a bun on the top of his head, "I hope there's enough stuff here that I can use."

"Your mother would say that, when she visited." Voldemort said, Vermundr looking at him momentarily, before focusing on his cooking once more,

"I wish I had known her the way you had, but I'm sure you desired to know her the way I did. You and I lead two lives that should have forever stayed parallel, Sir, but it seems Fate has dealt us such cards that we have no choice to intersect. I apologize if I cause you any trouble." Vermundr said,

"I don't mind, you're a pleasure to have here. Tell me- what magic did your mother teach you? Dragons are not to have human disguises. Even my Familiar, Nagini, can only do it for so long."

"Before she caught us -my foster brothers and sisters- any magic what so ever, each of us was bond by pact to keep it to yourself and speak little of it." Vermundr paused, the water boiling in a pot on the stove, and he lifted his shirt, "This is the symbol you spoke of, correct? We are allowed to choose where we receive the mark." Over his heart, was a tattoo of a twin headed cobra- the same one his foster mother bore. He put his shirt down, "I'm sorry for flashing you all, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can cook in my natural form and with my coat on…"

"I'm interested. How did your mother treat you?" Snape asked, "If I may ask such a thing."

"My mother treated us with love, I believe. When we came of age to under stand, she would take us to our maternal parents, if our parents requested it. She wanted us to know, that we weren't human, and if we canted to leave, we could. I watched some of my foster sisters and brothers leave her, but she was happy for them. Some of us stayed, but what happened to them between the last time I was awake, to now, I do not know." Vermundr said, "Sometimes, she was sad when she was alone, some times, I would hear her yell, but never in my life, have I seen her lay a hand on anyone, or raise her voice to any of those in her care, or mentally abuse us."

"She seemed like a happy person."

"She was. Actually, various monsoons destroyed our house numerous times. She laughed each time and would say, 'Looks like mother nature is telling us to make a sturdier house, ladies and gents!'. We'd all help rebuild it. In between, we slept in my room, under the well door." Vermundr said, grinning,

"That sounds like her. Actually, I believe we've met once before. One of the times I visited her. You constantly glared at me from behind something, and every time I tried to talk to you, you would growl at me and hide under Antoinette's skirt." Voldemort commented, as Vermundr pushed some minced vegetables into the boiling water. "I believe you did not take a liking to me."

"If you ask my mother, at that time, I really didn't take a liking to anyone outside of the family." Vermundr said, "I don't enjoy people at that time, but, she taught us all that 'time shared together, makes memories, and memories bring happiness and joy on most occasions'." He put some water in a bowl, and put his fingers to his temples, growling in distaste, as he pulled a white wisp from his temple, and gently set it in the water. Their was a sickening snap, and he purred, a hand on the back of his neck, "Hnn…so much better."

"Does it hurt? Being in a human disguise?" Pete asked curiously, Vermundr glancing at him,

"At times, it gets bothersome, but I doubt that I could fit in this house in my form. If I do not wear this skin, then, I cannot hold an intellectual conversation with anyone aside from my mother." Vermundr sighed, "I've tried talking to my own kind. They say 'food, food, food, children, sex, mates, food, gold' and that's about it. I'm stuck between my desire to be myself, and my insatiable hunger for knowledge and conversation." He said, salting and peppering the concoction he was working on. "Hn…this stew will be ready soon. There wasn't much I could work with, but I will reimburse you for letting me use your fridge."

"You're very polite." Snape observed, and Vermundr added a few more things to the soup, getting small dishes and putting some of the soup in them for taste testing.

"Thank you. I take pride in knowing the various languages I do." Vermundr said, handing each fo them a bowl, "These are samples. If it's not to your liking, please inform me."

"Did Antoinette teach you how to cook as well?" Snape asked, drinking the soup, "This is good."

"She taught us everything we needed to know to survive on our own. How to hunt in the wild, skin our kills, cook the meat. 15 different way to make sure that what we kill, we can use, all the way down to the bones that we can use for needles and to help make homes." Vermundr said, "She was a wonderful teacher, and I believe she taught us the same courses you took in your wizard and witching school."

"How did she support you all?" Peter asked, and Vermundr paused, thinking about it.

"I'm not sure. My other sisters and brothers would bring her trinkets and I think she sold them. Maybe our parents gave her a piece of their fortunes. I wasn't sure, but, I know that she tried the best she could." He refilled their sample bowls with the stew, "If there are more members in your household, there should be enough here for a good couple days." He said, giving them their bowls, and untied the apron. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hunting. I will leave my mother here in your care, please watch her while I am gone. I will return for her." Vermundr pulled on his coat, untied his hair, put on his hat, and left the house, "Please don't open the coffin." He asked, before vanishing.

Around midnight, there was a knock on the door, and once more, Peter Pettigrew opened the door. Vermundr stood on the doorstep, drenched from head to toe, shaking, "Hello again. I'm here to collect my mother. I'd rather not come into the house since I'm soaking wet, so, um, please move aside." Peter looked back, the Coffin hovering above the ground behind him. It shot to Vermundr and he caught it, putting it on his back ,"Thank you for your hospitality, I'll be going."

"Stay a the night. We have room." Snape offered, and Vermundr chuckled,

"I can not, but thank you. " Vermundr said, bowing, before walking off,

"Come back tomorrow."

~O~ The next day ~O~

Vermundr grumbled, before sneezing into a tissue, "Sorry." He muttered, hugging himself, the coffin leaning on the chair he sat in.

"How did you get that cold?" Voldemort asked, and Vermundr blushed,

"I went hunting and saw the most beautiful female I've ever seen in my life. I tried to follow her, and as I ran after her, along side her- I fell face first and tumbled into a lake. When I surfaced, she was gone, and she'd taken my kills for the night." Vermundr said, sneezing again, "I got jacked. It's the same female too." His stomach growled and he sighed, "I guess I'll go buy some food from the town's market." He got up, and left, returning not too long after, grinning and happy. He rested back in the chair, sighing, white smoke coming from between his lips.

"Oh, if the smoke bothers any of you, I can stand outside." Vermundr said, and they were unfazed by it. "I was wondering if there was anything I could do in exchange for all this information you're sharing with me. Thought I cannot grant wishes, but I can try the best I can."

"I propose a trade." Voldemort offered, "My memories are precious to me, I'll tell you of them in exchange for your help. There are various things we can not to, but you can."

"I will assist you, but I am not your pawn. For each memory, I will do you a single favor." Vermundr said, "I only have a mild interest in helping you, but more interest in what you know. If You would mind, I'd like to learn alchemy from you, if you're willing and if you can teach it. If you cannot, then, I will leave."

"I'm sure we can find a book or two on the matter." Voldemort said, Vermundr nodding, letting out steam from his mouth,

"I have the materials needed, but since I will be a amateur, I believe I will try various medias. Porcelain may be too fragile, marble too heavy, granite too messy. I desire her to be able to move as fluidly as she did in her original body, but with eternal life." Vermundr said,

"Hm- A living doll?" Peter asked, and Vermundr grinned,

"A living work of art." Vermundr put a hand on Snape's shoulder, steam heating the air around him, "Don't think I will let you go unhelping, friend. In my mother's diaries, she spoke of the sexual harassment from you during the small parcels of time she stayed here." Snape pushed his hand away, "Your heart is too black, your tongue is too sharp. Maybe I'll cut out your eyes- as a gift to her new body."

"Your mother told you of this?" Voldemort asked curiously, stroking his chin, eying Snape,

"At times, she would let me read her writing from her lap as she wrote her entries. I was unable to find the diary in the house before I burned it to the ground." Vermundr said, "I even sounded out the words to the entry." Snape twitched, and Vermundr removed his hand, grinning,

"Was that the reason for your hesitance when I asked you your opinion on her, Severus?" Voldemort questioned, and Vermundr chuckled, "Well, if you'll excuse us, Vermundr, Severus and I will have a little chat."


End file.
